Maria squealed and clapped. She'd been a cheerleader in high school. Old habits were hard to break. "Tell all!"
"I couldn't."
"You could too," my mother said, sipping her margarita.
"And has." Brickhouse chuckled. "Tell Maria about his tattoo."
Tam tossed popcorn into her mouth, talked around it. "A tattoo! No! Not Carson Keyes!"
Ana leaned forward, her breasts nearly spilling out of her V-neck nightshirt.
Wait. Whoa.
I took a good look around. Pillows. Sleeping bags. Sleepwear . . .
It was an honest to goodness slumber party.
At my house.
On a work night.
"It's a tiny pink ballet slipper on his right hip."
I noticed someone had put a piece of tape over the Hitched or Ditched camera in the living room. Probably my mother—she wouldn't have wanted anyone to see her clean.
Maria frowned. "A ballet slipper?"
"I know," Ana said. "Weird. He wouldn't tell me what it was about."
"Probably a tribute to an ex," Tam pointed out.
"Girlfriend or boyfriend?" Brickhouse clucked.
Ana drew herself up. "He is not gay! I can attest to that."
More clucking. "If the ballet slipper fits."
"Hi," I said again, still standing in the doorway. I thought it a good time to jump in, seeing as how Ana looked like she wanted to shove popcorn down Brickhouse's throat to permanently end her clucking.
"You're home!" Tam cried.
My mother smiled as though she hadn't shushed me minutes before. "Welcome to Tam's slumber party!"
"Nina!" Maria shrieked.
Oh no—I'd forgotten the earplugs.
"You look . . . you look . . . amazing! Are your eyebrows plucked? Are those highlights? Oh. My. God! Do you have a manicure?"
"And a pedicure."
She squealed.
Everyone launched into a discussion on my new look
as I set my backpack and keys down and made my way to the margarita pitcher. Tequila in its best form. If I'd had any hesitation about taking the easy road, it'd been washed out by the presence of five crazy women in my living room.
"This is just what I needed," Tam said. "A night away. Listen." She cocked an ear.
I listened. The news anchor waxed on, outraged at the cost of heating bills.
"It's quiet. No crying." She sipped her margarita, smiled. "It's heaven."
Okay, so I'd been put out by my own plans being thwarted. I'd been looking forward to the quiet night in bed, the chance to sort things out, but seeing Tam so happy . . . It was worth a little inconvenience.
"You don't seem all that upset by Thad's death," I said to my mother.
"Pah. I was over him the minute I heard about him and Genevieve. No one likes a slimeball."
"Amen," Maria said.
"Was he blue?" Ana asked. "Did his eyes bulge out? Had he wet himself? I've heard that when you're hung, you lose control of your bodily functions. True?"
I gulped my margarita.
Brickhouse clucked. "Thad Cochran would hate it to get around that he wee-weed on himself."
Maria nodded. "Most egotistical man I'd ever met."
My mother looked aghast.
Tam looked enthralled.
"So?" Ana asked.
"I didn't see him," I lied.
"But you must have heard."
"Nope, not a thing. I was locked in the soundproof booth." My fibbing skills never ceased to amaze me.
"Hmmph," she grunted, clearly disappointed.
Gingerly, I plopped down onto the cushion of sleeping
bags. Ibuprofen had worked miracles on my aching muscles. "Is Riley gone for the whole night?"
"Sleeping at Donatelli's." Brickhouse stretched out her legs. She wore a two-piece Tinker Bell flannel pajama set. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to look at her the same way again.
Maria examined her pedicure. "He mumbled something about too much estrogen before he bolted out the back door."
Can't say I blamed him.
Tam frowned. "Do you think she misses me? Maybe I should call home. Do you think I should call home?" She tugged on her roomy Beatles T-shirt. Plaid lounging pants and floppy-eared bunny slippers completed her pj's.
My mother patted her hand. "You know where the phone is, chérie."
Tam sprinted into the kitchen. She moved really well for a woman who'd recently had a baby.
"Oh look! Look! It's Carson again." Ana sighed.
I'd never seen her so giddy over someone. Could it be that she was finally ready to settle down? Or did she just have stars in her eyes?
I hoped Carson wasn't hurt in the cross fire. He seemed the sensitive sort, especially if he'd succumbed under pressure to have a ballet slipper tattooed on his hip. He'd never see Steamroller Ana coming.
Brickhouse aimed the remote at the TV, turned up the volume. I refilled my glass.
"Sources on scene have confirmed Sherry Cochran, the widow of Hitched or Ditched host Thad Cochran, has been taken to University Hospital following a collapse after hearing the news of her husband's death."
The screen cut to footage of an ambulance pulling up to the front door of the HoD building, then flashed ahead to Sherry being wheeled out of the building.
I hadn't realized Sherry was there. Did she arrive after hearing the news about Thad? Or had she been there all along?
I took another strawberry-filled sip.
None of my business. The detectives were quite capable of sorting this all out.
"Who's that?" Maria asked, squinting at the TV. She was nearsighted but refused to buy a pair of glasses.
I put my glass down, reached for the popcorn. The cream puff plate was empty. "Who?"
"The blonde with the pixie cut. That style is really all wrong for her. Who does she think she is, Twiggy?"
"Her name is Jessica Ayers."
"She looks familiar."
"She was the hostess of Hitched or Ditched for two years, before Genevieve came in."
Maria shook her head. "No. Never watched the show before you were on it."
"You probably met her at some charity shindig or another."
"Nope. I'd have remembered that hair."
Brickhouse clucked. "Ach. Perhaps she probably wore it in a different style when you met her."
My mother said, "She's had that same style for as long as she's been on Hitched or Ditched."
"It'll come to me," Maria said.
And it would. She had a talent for remembering faces.
Ana held her fingers to her lips. "Shh! I can't hear Carson ."
Coochie-cooing noises came from the kitchen—Tam obviously having a conversation with Nic. Well, I hoped it was Nic. If it was Ian she was talking to like that, then I'd be worried.
My mother sipped her drink. "I give her till midnight."
"Who? Nic?"
"Tam."
"Shhh!" Ana glared.
Brickhouse nodded. "I say one."
"That long, Ursula?" My mother tsked.
Maria snapped open her Chanel handbag. "I've got five dollars that says, oh, four-thirty."
Brickhouse reached for her tote, my mother for her Louis Vuitton. Ana pulled a five from the depths of her cleavage, and without ever taking her eyes off the TV, passed it behind her and said, "Three."
My mother looked at me just as Tam paced by the kitchen doorway. The light from the TV caught the tears in her eyes. "Closest without going over?"
Everyone nodded.
"Eleven," I said, knee-walking to my backpack on the table near the door.
"But it's ten-thirty now," Brickhouse felt the need to point out.
"I'm aware." I pulled a five out of my wallet just as Tam came back into the living room.
"I think she misses me," Tam said. "Ian says she's okay, but I don't know. There was something in her voice when I spoke with her."
We all nodded, though I personally thought she might hav
e had a little too much to drink.
"Maybe I should go home," Tam said, dropping onto the fl oor.
My mother, dressed in silk pajamas, easily slid across the sleeping bags and wrapped an arm around Tam. "It's okay, chérie. Why don't you give it a little time." She caught my eye, winked. "At least another hour or so."
"Or two!" Brickhouse shouted.
"Or four!" Ana threw over her shoulder.
Tam's eyebrows dipped. "What's going on?"
"A little pool." I tossed my money at my mother, who glowered at me for telling.
Tam threw her head back and laughed. "This is just what I needed," she said. She dug around in her canvas bag and pulled out a five dollar bill. "I take six A.M. By then I'll be able to get home in time to say good morning to Nic when she wakes up."
"See what you did," my mother said to me. "I'd have won that bet."
Brickhouse clucked. "Not likely."
Maria yawned. She wore one of those long fl owing Mommy Dearest peignoirs, with the feathers along the bottom hem and the high heel slippers. A sleep mask sat atop her head. "Do you have a vacuum?"
I eyed the popcorn bits on the floor. "Since when do you do housekeeping?"
"It's for my bed."
"Bed?"
Brickhouse smirked, and nodded to the box in the corner. It was one of those inflatable mattresses. Queen size.
"And could you fill it up for me?" Maria batted her eyelashes.
That would be no. Oooh—my new self could even withstand Maria. That alone made the process worth it.
Ana turned off the TV. "Maybe I'll call Andy the tech at the M.E.'s office tomorrow morning, see what he knows about Thad's death."
My mother rose. "I'm going to need another pitcher of margaritas if she's going to keep talking about dead bodies."
Tam leaned back on her pillow, set her travel alarm clock. "Easiest money I'll ever make."
"Oh," my mother said. "The construction foreman called. He won't be able to make it tomorrow."
I groaned. It figured. I finally got rid of the picketers, and now the construction guys were going to be a no-show.
"Someone put on the movie," Brickhouse said.
"Movie?" I asked.
Maria sighed. "Love Story."
I wondered if Mr. Cabrera would mind if I bunked on his couch.
I couldn't sleep.
Between Brickhouse's and my mother's snoring, Maria's tossing and turning on her squeaky inflatable mattress, and Tam getting up every half hour to call home, I'd maybe dozed five minutes.
I blinked to clear my vision. The digital readout on the VCR told me it was 3:53 A.M.
My head swam with information. As much as I'd tried to drown it out with the margaritas, it floated there on the edge of my consciousness.
Neither Thad's nor Genevieve's deaths were any of my business. It was happenstance that I'd been thrown into the situation, bad luck that I'd stumbled on the two of them in the bathroom, and Willie and Sherry in each other's arms.
However, as I lay there, staring at the hole in my ceiling, I couldn't help going over everything again, the events that had happened in the last couple of days.
First the death threats, then the death of Genevieve, then Thad.
If I looked from the outside in, and asked who gained from their deaths, there was no clear answer.
If Willie was the murderer, what did he gain? His freedom, sure. Maybe even revenge. But he lost so much more. Genevieve was the ink in his network deal.
If Sherry killed them, what did she gain? The same as Willie, I supposed. But she also lost her meal ticket. I couldn't imagine that Thad made much money on HoD— his star was just rising, fame and fortune within his grasp.
But now Willie and Sherry had each other. Maybe that was the ultimate gain. Not money. Or fame. Or fortune. Or the show. Love.
Had they plotted and planned their spouses' deaths?
I couldn't forget about Thad and his apparent suicide. If
he'd committed suicide, why? Out of guilt? Had he killed Genevieve? A lover's spat gone wrong? Or did he kill himself out of despair? Over losing her and possibly his job?
The sound of a big truck outside filtered through the quiet night. I sat up as the engine idled, then shut off.
People were rarely out and about at that time of night in the Mill. I bit back a groan as I climbed out of my sleeping bag.
Outside, a car door closed.
Muscles ached as I peeked out the window. My stomach immediately knotted.
Rushing to the door, I pulled it open and slipped out.
"What are you doing here?" I asked Kit, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the cold. BeBe slurped my hand. Her tail slammed against my orange mums, sending petals fl ying.
"You said if I needed anything to let you know. I need a place to stay. Can't find a hotel that'll take BeBe."
"You can take Riley's room."
"I can't—"
"He's not home."
"On a school night?"
"You'll see why soon enough."
BeBe followed obediently as we walked up the front steps.
"Is that Tam's car?"
"Yep."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yep." I pushed open the front door. Light spilled across the living room fl oor.
"Good God. Maybe I should just sleep in the truck."
"Nonsense," I whispered. "You're more than welcome here."
BeBe was in sniffing heaven. She licked Maria's toes, and I heard her mumble Nate's name.
I shuddered. Too much information.
"What's on her face?" Kit asked.
"Sleep mask. Keeps the light out."
"Oh."
Kit and BeBe followed me up the stairs. I hoped Kit didn't notice how slowly I was taking them. BeBe slipped a few times on the hardwood but finally made it up. "Let me change the sheets."
"I'll do it."
"You sure?"
He nodded. I popped open the linen closet, pulled out a clean set of sheets. "Towels are in here too," I said.
"All right."
"You okay?" I asked.
"Been better."
I didn't know what to say to that. "Need to talk?"
"Nope." He had tomorrow off, and I hoped he slept in.
My heart breaking for him, I sighed. "You sure you don't want to talk?"
"Not yet."
I backed out the door. "Good night, then."
"Oh, Nina?"
"Yeah?"
"I might need to stay here for a few days while I find a place."
"Stay as long as you need, Kit."
I crept back down the stairs, wincing with each step. Tam was slipping into her jeans. "Is he okay?" she asked me.
"I guess. Doesn't want to talk about it."
My mother's snores filled the room. I motioned to the kitchen. "I heard him fighting with Daisy at Lowther House yesterday. About her doing something dangerous."
I filled Tam in while I rooted around for something to eat. I settled on a low-carb granola bar.
Tam read the wrapper. "What's up with you?"
"What?"
"Low-carb? Ursula says you've been drinking coffee,
Ana says you haven't been sleeping with Bobby, your mother says you're on a diet, and Mr. Cabrera says he heard you listening to country music."
"Chatty bunch."
"They're worried."
"I'm fine. Just trying new things." I glanced at her jeans. "Leaving?"
"Yeah. I miss them. Is that sappy?"
"Completely." I gave her a hug.
"You know this means Maria wins the bet. We'll never hear the end of it."
I smiled. "She won't gloat for long once she finds out BeBe was licking her toes."
She smiled, then the corners of her lips turned down, into a frown. "There were supposed to be six of us here tonight, Nina."
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